My Father’s World
My Dad spent the past fifteen years pouring a lot of work, money, and effort into making the farm pond a fisherman's dream. It wasn't where you would go if you were wanting to load down the table for a fish feast or even just to catch your supper. It wasn't managed for food but for great fishing. So if you were keeping the fish, it was for the purpose of managing and making for better fishing.
Lunker Bass, Big Bluegill, Crappie, and channel cats and koi lurked in the water. The koi were Dad's favorite. It isn't exactly a fisherman's fish, but dad didn't fish anyways. In fact I never saw him cast a line into the pond, ever! Maybe it was their bright colors or maybe the fact that since they are a vegetarian fish they would come up when he fed them. I don't know, but he loved seeing the koi swimming around or splashing in the cattails and eating algae or whatever else they could find.
As a kid, I pretty much grew up partially submerged in that pond. Not literally, but I spent lots of time swimming, fishing, camping and hanging out by the pond. Dad loved seeing us kids using the pond. Of course, like everything else, fishing and playing came with rules. But if the chores were done and there wasn't anything important going on, fishing was a fine thing to do.
There was no pavilion and not many fish back then. Just a fire ring and the fish we stocked by catching them in other places. My parents were too busy farming and raising kids and doing everything else that busy midlife people do than to put time and money into a pond. But as dad got older and his responsibilities became less, he started putting time and money into that pond. He figured out what made a great habitat and environment for fish and birds and frogs, and planted lily pads, cattails, bulrushes and all kinds of plants around the pond and even left the river willows grow and die and fall into the pond, making a great nesting place for the little green heron, and a perch for the Great Blue Heron.
He stocked the pond with fish and little critters that were tasty to the fish, put up boxes for Wood Ducks and built a really nice pavilion on the bank. After a couple of years it morphed into this fisherman's dream. Even though Dad didn't fish, he loved watching the rest of us catch the fish. It tickled him to death when someone caught a big one or just from seeing the excitement on one of the kids faces as they showed him the fish that they caught. He just loved seeing others enjoying his creation and he would get a big ole smile on his face when someone caught a nice fish. Even recently, even though his mind isn't as sharp as it once was, and he doesn't say much, mention of a fish from his pond will usually get a, "wow" or at least a big ole grin, along with his happiest phrase, "no kiddin".
I like to think that fathers were meant to represent God on this earth. Being a father myself, I know trying to represent God is an almost impossible task, but if we look at almost any father, there's this inkling, a fragment, something special that makes us realize that God is a loving father and he really loves it when we enjoy his creation. Of course everyone on earth has their flaws too, and so we don't always see it. But like my dad, I think that God loves it when we enjoy his creation.
This week doesn't seem super filled with obligations. It's also the week that us whitetail hunters know as the peak of the rut. It's something that I look forward to each year. So I plan to spend most of the week in a tree stand with my bow. Friday I'll work and then Saturday is youth day and I'll get to hunt with the boys. Maybe I'll keep a journal and then share that in my next blog. And if God's looking down at us, well, I hope to put a big ole smile on his face!
